


Eye Contact

by Zannolin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Established Matt Holt/Shiro, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Minor Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Minor Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Soulmates, lasertag, pre-season 6 so lotura, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 21:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18374285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zannolin/pseuds/Zannolin
Summary: A world where, until you meet your soulmate and look into their eyes for the first time, you cannot see the color of their eyes.





	Eye Contact

_ Red. _

_ Orange. _

_ Yellow. _

_ Green. _

_ Blue. _

_ Indigo. _

_ Violet. _

Lance stares at the ceiling in his room, absently tossing a hacky-sack from hand to hand. 

“Indigo,” he mutters, almost with a kind of prejudice. “What kind of color even  _ is _ indigo? Is that even included in the rainbow anymore?” 

As if he hasn’t muttered these same words, day after day, week after week, year after year. As far as he can tell, the acronym is still “Roy G. Biv,” but most people generally skip over the “color between blue and violet on the spectrum” (as the internet tells him). Enough that only his science textbooks have seven-colored rainbows anymore. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, and...a sort of grey-white stripe where indigo should be. But he can see all the colors on the pride flag.

Lance has met people with grey eyes. Sometimes, their eyes really  _ are _ grey - like Shiro’s - and sometimes, their eyes are actually indigo. But he’s never been able to see the sixth color of the rainbow, so none of them were his soulmate. 

“Whatever,” he mutters to the dimming room. (Sometimes, he wonders if he’d even care about indigo if it wasn’t such an odd part of his life - just by  _ not _ being there.)

Wait.

_ When did it get so dark? _

The hacky-sack tumbles to the bed as Lance sits bolt upright, eyes wide.

“Oh  _ shoot _ !” he fumbles for his phone. “The bachelor party!”

It’s not a bachelor party in the strictest sense; Matt and Shiro decided to invite all their close friends, regardless of gender. And currently, no one but the two of them know what the party will be. The only hint that attendees have received is “dress comfortably.” Which could mean any  _ number _ of things.

A quick glance at his phone determines that Hunk will be here any minute to pick him up. Okay, so not late yet. Just cutting it close. 

He can work with this. 

Lance bounds off his bed, stuffing his feet into his sneakers and reaching for his worn lucky jacket. Within two minutes, he’s downstairs, keys in hand, waiting for Hunk. Tonight is going to be interesting.

He just hopes it’s the  _ good _ kind of interesting. With this friend group, well, you never know.

 

* * *

 

Despite Lance’s fears of being late, it turns out they beat everyone but Pidge to Shiro’s apartment.

She squints through her glasses at them, pushing a lock of tawny hair off her forehead. “Where’s Shay?”

“Coming,” Hunk replies as Lance flops onto Shiro’s couch, bouncing Pidge a few inches into the air. “She got off work a few minutes ago, said she was going to get Florona and them, since Nyma’s sick and can’t come.”

At the mention of his girlfriend, Hunk smiles. He and Shay had met at Balmera, the deli where she worked, a few months ago. They were soulmates, and currently testing the waters by dating, as not all soulmates worked out romantically. Everyone likes the soft-spoken golden-eyed girl, though, and Lance hopes they work out. 

It is one of those odd quirks about soulmates versus love that some people are better off platonically - the slang for soulmates like that is “soulfriends”. One-sided soulmates, soulfriends, non-soulmate couples...being soulmates and being in love are not synonymous, and not anywhere near as simple as pop culture and YA fiction would like to make it out.

“Wait,” Lance says, sitting up. “Where’s Shiro?”

Just then, Matt emerges from the hall, pulling a grey sweatshirt over his head. 

“He’ll be back in a bit,” he informs them. “He went to pick up Keith.”

“Keith?” queries Lance. 

“Shiro’s cousin.”

“Whoa,” Hunk says, rummaging somewhere in the kitchen, “I didn’t know Shiro had a cousin.”

“Practically everyone has cousins, Hunk,” Lance says.

Pidge looks up from her laptop. “He just moved here. Wasn’t he staying with Shiro’s parents until he graduated?”

Matt nods as Hunk reenters the room, munching on a handful of chips. 

“Shiro’s excited he’ll be near us. He doesn’t have a car yet, so that’s why Shiro had to go get him.”

Between the conversation and Hunk’s crunching, no one has noticed a key rattling in the lock or the door opening until Shiro himself emerges from the entryway, tossing his keys on the coffee table. 

“We’re back,” he announces, pecking Matt on the cheek. Behind him, a lean, dark-haired boy wearing some sort of red cut-off motorcycle jacket enters.

“For your information,” he says to Matt, one eyebrow quirked, “I don’t  _ need _ a car. I have a motorcycle. But  _ Grandpa _ , here” - he nudges Shiro with an affectionate elbow - “didn’t want me to ride it.”

“Hey, it’s supposed to rain tonight!” Shiro protests, which only coaxes his cousin’s eyebrow upwards further. He sighs in resignation, swatting at Keith’s shoulder, and turns to acknowledge the other occupants of his living room. 

“Lance, Hunk, this is Keith Kogane, my cousin.”

Everyone makes various noises or gestures of welcome - Hunk’s spraying chip crumbs like a woodchipper - and Keith offers a quiet sort of half-smile, looking rather out of his element. As his friends fall back into chatter and Shiro drags Keith over to Hunk to introduce him individually, Lance allows himself a minute to observe, because this boy is  _ fine. _ ( _ Pretty _ is probably the best word for it, he decides.) His dark hair is overlong, maybe a little bit mullet-y, but it’s cute how it keeps falling into his eyes. Lance tries to ignore his sudden desire to run his fingers through it to check if it is as soft as it looks. The jacket is ridiculous and too big, masking his form somewhat, but from what Lance  _ can  _ see - well, he’s easy on the eyes. 

And speaking of eyes.

Shiro pulls Keith over to Lance, who unconsciously straightens out of his slumped position.

“This is Lance,” Shiro says, flicking his white bangs out of his eyes, “I think I told you about him. He’s interested in space, too.”

Grinning, Lance sticks out his hand, looking up to meet the other boy’s gaze. 

_ Holy crow, _ he thinks, because Keith’s eyes are like nothing he’s ever seen. A dusky blue, so deep they’re almost purple - maybe they’re actually blue-violet? - yet somehow with hues of grey. They remind Lance of the final moments of sunset, right after the sun has disappeared; those minutes before the oncoming night arrives. That sort of secretly magical time between times that most people don’t notice because they’re too dazzled by the sunset, or too busy preparing for the night. 

He doesn’t have a name for this color, but he likes it. He likes it a lot. 

And of course, like the total idiot he so often is, Lance falls so far into those eyes that he doesn’t notice he’s staring. Has been - for a while now, actually. It’s only when his still-extended arm begins to ache that he realizes exactly what he’s doing.

That’s also when he catches the odd look on Keith’s face. Those beautiful eyes are stretched wide, the other boy gazing at him in a sort of inexplicable wonder. There’s a faint dusting of pink over his cheeks, and his lips are parted slightly.

It’s kind of cute.

It’s kind of  _ more _ than cute, if he’s being honest. 

Then he blinks, and the stationary moment fractures, returning them both to normal time, with a generous helping of awkwardness. They shake hands stiffly, each avoiding eye contact.

Lance clears his throat after a few seconds.

“So...space?”

Keith nods, staring fixedly at the curtain of hair cloaking his face. “I’m going to major in engineering, maybe enter the space program.”

“Cool.”

He’d like to talk more, but Shiro, who has moved a little way off, is making his “proud dad” face, which seems to be annoying Keith, who shoots an exasperated glance his way. 

And then the doorbell rings, and in come Allura and Lotor, both looking infuriatingly gorgeous (apparently Allura has convinced her boyfriend to let her braid his hair). A moment later, the door opens again, bringing Coran, Shay, Florona, Luxia, and Plaxum. In the general chaos and chatter of arrivals, Lance fails to notice Keith slipping away - but not after stealing another awed glance at him.

By the time he  _ does _ notice, Allura’s already crossed the living room and grabbed Lance in a hug. He’d had fleeting crushes on Allura and Lotor both - well, correction: he’d been majorly hung up on Allura. They weren’t soulmates, but then, non-soulmate couples worked out almost as often as soulmates, so he’d harboured a not-so-secret crush for the silvery-haired beauty. She’d been kind but firm when she turned him down, and then she’d met Lotor. And Lotor was...hard  _ not _ to get a crush on, honestly. Typical, that the two most beautiful people in the world would end up together. Anyway, he was glad to have them as friends, and damn if he wasn’t infuriatingly curious about indigo still. 

Though, as he thinks of this and hugs Allura back, Lance can’t keep his mind from flashing to a pair of eyes like the early night sky. Pulling back, he turns to Lotor, ready to poke fun at his braid, but his eyes seek out Keith (talking earnestly to Pidge) of their own volition, and the snark flies out of his mind.

He’s saved from yet another awkward situation by Shiro and Matt.

“Oi!” Matt calls, but fails to capture everyone’s attention. 

“If everyone could listen up!” Shiro’s voice cuts through the noise, which peters out abruptly. 

“Thanks,” Matt says, adjusting his glasses. 

Shiro smiles at his fiance, wrapping an arm around his shoulders easily.

“Get a room!” Pidge jokes, making both grooms-to-be turn scarlet. 

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Matt chokes pointedly, “we’re about to leave for the party venue - and  _ no, _ we’re still not telling what it is. You’ll all see when we get there.”

A collective groan choruses, which just makes Matt smirk as he lets Shiro pull him back to lean against his chest, chin resting on Matt’s ginger hair. 

“Shiro and I will each drive,” he continues. “I’m taking my car, Shiro’s in his minivan. Let’s divide and get going, people!”

 

* * *

 

 

_ Blue. _

All his life, Keith has longed to know what blue looks like. In some cases of soulmates, it is the exact shade of their soulmate’s eyes that people can’t see. But for Keith, he can’t see blue at all. Not the sky. Not Allura’s eyes. Not the ocean or the walls of his room in his aunt and uncle’s house or Nyma’s favorite crop top. He’s never understood  _ why  _ that is, but with each passing year, his desire to know grows. And now, in the most unexpected of places, he’s found the answer.

Keith has found blue in a spectacular pair of eyes, so deep and mesmerizing and cool that he’s finally beginning to grasp why so many people write songs about eyes like oceans. 

To him, Lance’s eyes are like liquid starlight, like diving into icy water on a blazing summer day. Simultaneously hot and cold - Keith realizes why both ice and fire can be blue. Blue is comforting and familiar, sparkling and sweet, and so,  _ so _ beautiful. 

For eighteen years, Keith has wondered. And the answer has come in the shape of Lance McClain - tall, slightly scrawny, with messy chocolate hair, warm tan skin smattered with freckles like constellations, and astonishingly blue eyes. 

Watching the blue spread outwards from those eyes to color Lance’s shirt, the faded denim of Shiro’s couch, bits and pieces of the rest of the room, he feels like he’s floating - is this what zero G is like? - but that weightlessness quickly upends to falling when the moment ends, and Lance makes an attempt at normal conversation to smooth the sudden, unbearable awkwardness. 

What are you supposed to do when you meet your soulmate? Surely not talk about your college plans.

Of course, really his only points of reference would be Shiro and Matt, who met when Matt was brought in to build him a prosthetic arm, and “the world fell into place,” according to Shiro, (who had never quite been the same after Adam left him) and Lotor and Allura, who met at a funeral, of all places. 

None of that helps allay the fear rising in his chest: has he waited his entire life for a one-sided connection? Can one-sided connections even work out? (He’s never bothered to check; but for the absence of blue in his life, he would have assumed he  _ had _ no soulmate,  _ needed _ no soulmate.) Is he ready for a romantic relationship, either way?

Keith can’t deny that he finds Lance attractive - very much so - but he knows almost nothing about him, just what he’s heard from Shiro, Matt, Pidge, and occasionally Allura. And Pidge is usually reporting on some ridiculous escapade, honestly. (Oh, the videos he’s seen.)

Part of his brain begins a wild scream of  _ whatdoIdowhatdoIdo _ \- but he shuts it down and threads his way through the new arrivals (so many people) to Pidge’s side.

“Pidge,” he says quietly, wincing at the crack in his voice. “Can-”

She closes her computer, holds up a hand, which effectively shuts him up, and meets his gaze with her earnest golden-brown eyes. 

“I’m gonna be honest, Keith,” she says, pushing her glasses up her nose, the picture of her brother. “I’m too aro for this.”

“How did you-”

She rolls her eyes. “I can  _ see, _ you know. You were as obvious as a foghorn; unfortunately, you’ve apparently got the world’s most oblivious guy as your soulmate. Talk to Matt, okay?”

Keith chews his lip.  _ Was I  _ that _ obvious? Did anyone else notice? Did Shiro? _

As much as he loves his cousin, he’s not really sure if Shiro, with his more outgoing personality (and disastrous attempts at flirting) can really relate to this situation.

“Talk to Matt,” Pidge repeats.

Okay. 

He will.

 

* * *

 

 

“So you haven’t talked to him about it?” Matt clarifies in a low voice as the group descends three flights of stairs to the parking lot. 

Keith runs a harassed hand through his hair. “No,” he admits, trying to remove his gaze from the back of Lance’s head - and failing. “I mean - he didn’t - nothing seemed to...he didn’t react?”

His future cousin-in-law snorts, flicking gingery bangs out of his eyes. “You  _ do _ realize that  _ both _ of you just stared at each other for, what, a minute? It was like a chick flick. Not to mention neither of you has been able to keep his eyes off the other since then. Soulmate or not, I’m pretty sure Lance likes you.”

Keith pauses on a landing, turning to stare at Matt on the step above him, ignoring the others, who continue downwards. 

“You really think so?” He’s...not sure how to feel about this.

“After Allura, and Lotor besides? I’m fairly certain I know when Lance has a crush,” Matt deadpans.

Keith hates the flush he feels blooming across his cheekbones, but there is a much more pleasant warmth in his belly.

Still.

“What do I  _ do _ , then?”

Matt laughs, starting down the stairs again. “It’s not that complicated, Keith. Just talk to him. Admit he’s your soulmate, or if you’re not ready for that, ask him out.”

“But I’m  _ me _ ,” Keith yelps, waving an arm helplessly. “And he’s...I mean,  _ look _ at him.”

Those blue eyes fill his mind again, and he tries not to sigh like some lovestruck teen.  _ Oh, how the mighty have fallen. _

Matt is shaking his head now. “Look, just be yourself. You’re not  _ hideous _ , you know - far from it. Ride in my car, and we’ll discuss further later. Who knows? Maybe we won’t even have to.”

Now it’s Keith’s turn to snort, but he allows Matt to tug him down the last flight of steps and out into the early evening.

Once he catches sight of the sky, he has to remember to breathe.

It’s  _ blue. _

And he can  _ see _ it.

_ I’m never going to get used to this _ , he marvels, drinking in the sight of the deepening royal blue sky the way a parched man downs cold water.

He could’ve stood there for hours, but a voice calls his name. It’s Lance, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little way away.

“Come  _ on _ ,” he urges, impatient. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we find out what we’re doing!”

It’s adorable how excited he is, really. Keith stops ogling the sky and follows Matt to his silver Prius.

“We’ll follow you,” Matt calls to his fiance, punching the button on his keychain to unlock the doors. Pidge has already snagged shotgun - and, by extension, the aux cord - so Keith pulls open the door and slides in behind the passenger seat. He buckles his seatbelt and is just mentally bemoaning the tiny amount of leg space (he misses his bike now) when Lance plops onto the backseat from the other side and scooches to the middle to let Hunk in.

Keith’s breath hitches, but Lance doesn’t seem to notice. He’s preoccupied by scrunching up as small as possible so Hunk can fit, joking about the lack of space. He certainly doesn’t seem to mind that the end result is being shoulder to shoulder, leg to leg with Keith.

“Is this okay?” Lance asks, turning to him. They’re so close that they practically bump noses.

“It’s - it’s fine,” Keith manages, certain that his face is a decidedly unattractive shade of scarlet. Rather than stare at Lance’s eyes again, he focuses on the freckles dotting the landscape of his nose and cheekbones. “Not as roomy as a motorcycle, though.”

It’s a weak attempt at a joke, but Lance grins nonetheless, nearly dazzling Keith.

“See, Pidge, if you - the smallest person here  _ by far _ \- hadn’t selfishly claimed shotgun,” Lance says, turning to face forwards again, “then we wouldn’t feel like sardines back here!”

“How else would you get to know each other?” replies Pidge, now scrolling through her music.

At this comment, Keith’s gaze flickers to the rearview mirror accusingly. Two pairs of honey-colored Holt eyes blink innocently back at him -  _ Who? Us? _

Nyma would be proud if she were here.

Biting back a sigh, Keith shifts and manages to extract his phone from his pocket without leaning too heavily on Lance.

He has almost no social media, and it would be stupid to text someone who’s already a part of this bachelor party, but he can’t just sit and do nothing for however long this drive will take. As Matt pulls out of the parking lot behind Shiro’s minivan, he glances back out at the slowly-darkening sky.

So blue. So blue he doesn’t have a name for it.

On a whim, Keith taps open the web browser on his phone, keys in “shades of blue.” The sheer variety of blues he sees in the image results is astounding. Keith swipes through image after image, learning shades and hues like “cerulean” and “cornflower” and “copenhagen”. They’re all so beautiful that he can’t choose a favorite. 

Blue reminds him of something, but he can’t put a finger on it. 

_ “Blue lips, blue veins, blue - the color of our planet from far, far away…” _

A snippet of the song Pidge is playing registers in his brain, and Keith freezes. She wouldn’t  _ honestly _ \- 

“Hey, man,” says Lance, right in his ear - right in his ear  _ because there is no available space in this car _ \- “whatcha doing?”

If there had been enough room for him to jump, Keith probably would have, but as it is, he’s wedged between the door and Lance’s hip. Instead, he fumbles, trying not to drop his phone.

“Um - trying to choose colors for my apartment,” Keith replies, thinking at warp speed. 

“You really like blue, then?” Lance asks, casually - but his voice sounds the tiniest bit forced. Or is Keith imagining it?

“I - yeah, I guess,” he says, meeting the other boy’s gaze. Then: “Holy crow.”

Lance blinks, confused. “What?”

“Your eyes. They’re, like,” Keith stumbles for words. “They’re a different color than before.”

“Huh?”

Keith scrolls rapidly through all the hues of blue on his phone. “Yeah. Earlier, they were...they were a mediterranean. And now...they’re more sapphire.”

He peers up through his hair to see Lance staring.

“Oh God - did I just sound creepy?” he asks, feeling the blood rush to his face  _ again _ \- at this rate, it’ll get tired of rushing and just  _ stay _ there.

“No - it’s just, my mom always told me my eyes changed colors, too.”  
Oh. Well.

Then Lance’s expression shifts, turning curious. He tilts  his head, looking faintly like Keith’s cat, Red, when she’s puzzled by some new object he’s brought home. It’s oddly endearing, seeing that look on Lance.

“What’re you doing?” he can’t help asking, feeling off-balance under such scrutiny.

“Trying to figure out what color  _ your _ eyes are,” says Lance matter-of-factly. “I can’t think of the right word for them.”

Hunk leans in, trying to see, in the process nearly pushing the other two boys close enough to knock heads.

“They’re sort of blue-grey?” Hunk muses, tapping a finger against his chin.

“No, more like TARDIS blue,” Pidge suggests.

“That’s not a  _ real _ color, Pidge.”

Then the debate begins in earnest, and Keith tries not to shrink into himself. He focuses instead on the music; the songs from a moment ago is finishing, the singer crooning the final lines:

_ “Blue, the most human color….” _

He likes the song, but the idea that Pidge might be playing it to hint things sours his enjoyment somewhat.

Finally, Matt slows and flicks on his right blinker. Ahead of them, Shiro is turning into a parking lot.

“How about this,” he suggests, following Shiro’s van, “we’ll ask Allura what color Keith’s eyes are, since she’s the designer, and then you can give the poor guy a rest.”

It’s embarrassing how relieved Keith feels when the others agree. He’s never had anyone ask his eye color - heck, he’s never thought about it himself, as strange as that idea seems to him now.

As they park, Lance leans over Keith to peer out the window at the sign on the building in front of them.

_ Breathe, _ Keith reminds himself.

“Are we playing  _ minigolf?! _ ” Lance gasps, sounding incredulous.

Matt turns off the car and unbuckles his seat belt. “Just get out, you goof, and we’ll explain.”

 

* * *

 

 

“No, we are not here to play minigolf,” Shiro says, once they’re all clumped together in front of the minigolf complex. “Though, for the record, I  _ did _ like the idea.”

“So-” Lance starts, but Matt clamps a hand over his mouth.

“We’ll be playing lazertag,” he begins, taking over for Shiro. Lance’s eyes grow saucer wide. “Two teams. I’m heading one, Shiro’s taking another. We can go couples versus couples, with singles dividing however they want.”

Pidge’s grin is diabolical enough to concern Keith as she rubs her hands together and says, “I’m  _ so _ on Shiro’s team.”

At Matt’s mock-offended look, she shrugs. 

“Let’s be honest, if we were on a team together, no one would stand a chance. Also, I  _ really _ want to beat you.”

Keith can’t help but laugh. “I guess I’ll be on your team, Matt, after that.”

Shiro groans. “Pidge, if they beat us, we’ll  _ never _ live it down.”

Finally, Lance pries Matt’s hand off his mouth. “I’m on Shiro’s team,” he proclaims. “And so is Hunk.”

“I am?” Hunk asks, blinking. “Oh. Right. Cool.”

The golden-eyed girl next to him with large hoop earrings and hair like a stormcloud pats Hunk’s shoulder. “Then I will be with Matt.”

_ She must be Shay _ , Keith realizes. If Shay is half as smart as he’s heard, then they certainly stand a chance against Pidge and Hunk.

The others divide - Allura, Coran, Luxia, and Florona joining Matt, Keith, and Shay, while Plaxum and Lotor move to stand with Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, and Lance. Unfortunately, that leaves seven against six.

“I could sit out, to even the teams,” Keith suggests, half-hoping he can. Competitive social activities aren’t really his area - unless you count online video game tournaments. But Matt is adamant.

“No way, Keith! We’ll need you. Luxia and Florona have never played; you’ll even things out.”

Keith only shrugs.

Suddenly, Matt slaps his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Almost forgot,” he says, turning to Allura. “Llura, we need you to settle a debate. What color are Keith’s eyes?”

Allura flips a curl of silvery hair out of her eyes. “Oh, that’s easy. They’re indigo.”

Pidge, Hunk, and Matt all agree thoughtfully, and everyone - including Keith - is too preoccupied with the imminent lazertag battle to notice the utter shock and realization painted on Lance’s features.

“All right, everyone,” Shiro says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s head inside!”

 

* * *

 

A short girl with long blonde braids and an abundance of freckles outfits them all with vests and blasters, introducing herself as Romelle.

“Basically, don’t injure each other, and don’t cheat by, like, taping your blasters or anything,” she explains, pushing her bangs out of her face. “I’d have to kick you out.”

Pidge is looking thoughtful, which just serves to concern Keith further. Coran holds his plastic blaster in a stiff military-style pose.

Romelle swings open the door and gestures them into the dim arena, which looks like an alien planet with its black lights and neon graffiti. The obstacles form a shadowy maze. Matt ushers their team - the Green team - off towards their base. Shiro does the same with the Purple team.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Matt says, speaking rapidly over Romelle on the intercom, explaining the rules one last time. “I’ll go for Shiro and distract him. He’s the head, and if he’s off-balance, they’ll go down easier.

“Coran, you and Luxia guard the base. Florona, Allura, you try to attack whoever you can. Shay, I want you to focus on Hunk. He might not shoot at you as quickly. I’m betting Lotor will attack the base directly, and Pidge will aim for a stealth attack. Keep an eye out.

“Keith.” Matt’s honey eyes have a mischievous glint in them now. “Your job is distracting Lance and getting to their base. Lance is a great sharpshooter; he’ll probably be guarding the purple base and sniping at the same time. You throw him off his game, and we can score some major points.”

“How-” Keith’s mouth is dry. He gulps. “How am I supposed to distract him?”

Six people grin at him, and he shrinks under their knowing gazes.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Allura replies nonchalantly, patting his shoulder.

And before he can even think of a valid protest, Romelle yells, “BEGIN!” and loud electronic music begins blasting out of speakers in the walls and ceiling.

_ Great. _

Palms sweaty, Keith grips his plastic gun and sets out across the room.

 

* * *

 

 

How Keith sneaks up on him, Lance isn’t sure. All he knows is one minute, he’s guarding the base, sniping at Allura as she tries to get close, and the next, and hand has spun him around and pushed him into a corner.

The first thing Lance registers is the barrel of a green-painted blaster, trained directly at his chest.

This elicits a thought:  _ I’m about to eat lasers. _

The second thing he sees is eyes the same color as a twilit sky, so close he expects to see stars scattered in their depths.

_ Indigo eyes. _

_ Keith. _

And then Lance is having trouble thinking, because his brain has short-circuited as it tries to process his earlier realization - that this boy is quite possibly his soulmate - and Keith is  _ so close _ .

Close enough that he can see a tiny freckle near Keith’s right eye. Close enough for Lance to realize he smells faintly of cinnamon and coffee.

The look in the other boy’s eyes is one of determination, overlapping with - nervousness? apprehension? anticipation? And then - oh God - he lowers his blaster, places a palm against Lance’s chest, and  _ kisses _ him.

Lance can practically see the error messages popping up. Something in his brain is screeching incoherently, but he closes his eyes and kisses Keith back, reaching up to tangle his fingers into the other boy’s sweat-dampened hair, which -  _ yes, it’s as soft as he thought. _

However long the kiss lasts - Lance isn’t sure because time seems to have stopped altogether - it’s  _ not long enough _ . But as suddenly as it starts, Keith pulls back, drawing in a breath.

His cheeks are pink, either from the room’s close heat or from the kiss. His fingers are still splayed against Lance’s chest, which heaves up and down as he catches his breath.

Somewhere between shell-shocked and elated, Lance stares at him, at the cute way his bangs fall over his eyes.

_ Indigo eyes _ , he thinks with a thrill.

He has no idea what to expect (shouldn’t he say something?). And then Keith gives him a lopsided smile, steps back, and shoots him directly in the chest sensor. Multiple times.

“What the  _ hell _ , Mullet?” Lance squeaks, his voice cracking in a very undignified manner.

“Nice eyes, Sharpshooter,” Keith tosses over his shoulder. Allura slaps him a high-five.

_ When did she make it to the base? _

_ How long has it been? _

Lance groans, dragging a hand down the side of his face.

_ I was totally just played. _

 

* * *

 

 

As it turns out, the Purple team lost - spectacularly so - largely due to Keith and Allura’s assault on their base (and sharpshooter). Matt had been exactly right in his predictions, so his plan was near flawless.

Now everyone is scattered - playing in the arcade, getting in a few rounds of minigolf before the promised rain hits.

Normally, Keith would prefer to be heading home for some quiet by now. Except he can’t, because he didn’t drive here, and he needs to talk to Lance. He finds him near the doors, staring at the candy and cheap toy dispensers, either deeply contemplating Skittles versus M&Ms, or as distracted as Keith himself feels.

“Hey, man,” Keith begins, feeling self-conscious. Lance starts and turns to face him, looking embarrassed. “Can we talk?”

Lance nods hesitantly, so Keith pulls open the door and steps out into the quieter night, Cars still race by on the street, and shouts and laughter echo from the minigolf courses - not to mention the noise seeping through the walls at their backs - but the heavy clouds overhead have rolled in like a lid, seeming to muffle all sound.

“So-” both boys begin at the same time, then break off, rubbing their necks awkwardly.

Keith takes a deep breath. “You’re my soulmate,” he admits quietly, studying the pavement. “I couldn’t see blue, not until Shiro introduced us. I- I didn’t say anything because...I was worried. I was  _ scared _ . You didn’t seem to react, and so I thought…” He fumbles for words.

“And, the kiss? God, I’m sorry for taking advantage of you like that. Matt told me to distract you, and….well, I really wanted to kiss you.”

_ I probably sound like a creep _ , Keith thinks miserably.

Lance emits a shaky sort of laugh.

“I think...I think you’re my soulmate, too.”

Just like that, Keith thinks he might’ve stopped breathing.

“I’ve been really,  _ really _ curious about indigo,” Lance begins, sounding nervous. “And you’d think I’d recognize it after almost eighteen years of reading about it, wondering, hoping...right? But no, all I realize when I first meet my soulmate is ‘Wow! Those are the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen!’ I mean,” he runs a hand through his chocolate hair, “come on, I met my soulmate and was so oblivious I didn’t even  _ notice _ !”

Part of Keith’s brain is still in a carousel, revolving around and around on “the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen,” but the rest of him is annoyed to see Lance putting himself down this way. 

“Hey,” he says, nudging at Lance with his elbow, “I didn’t even  _ say _ anything, just went and had a panic attack to Pidge and Matt.  _ Pidge _ , of all people. Don’t beat yourself up.”

He’s gratified to see a tiny smile begin on Lance’s lips.

Lips he kissed not an hour ago.

“So…” he shuffles his feet, feeling stupid and awkward again. “We’re soulmates.”

“Oh my God, they were soulmates,” Lance suddenly says, chuckling. Seeing the utter confusion on Keith’s features, he gasps in an overly scandalized way Keith had thought only existed on television.

“Please tell me know what that’s from?” he half yelps, half pleads.

“Um, no?” Keith admits. A roll of thunder ominously underscores his words.

“ _ No way, _ ” Lance nearly shrieks. “First thing when we get back, I’m showing you Vine compilations. No boyfriend of mine can be ignorant in the ways of Vine!”

He’s about to ask what plants have to do with anything when his brain catches up with what Lance has said.

“Boy...boyfriend?”

Lance blushes furiously, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets as the first drops of rain begin to plop down. “I mean...yes? If you want to be?”

The rain starts to pound in earnest now. The minigolf players are grabbing their balls and clubs and sprinting indoors to play arcade games and snack on greasy food. Neither boy moves, neither minds the slight sting as each cold droplet impacts on cloth, hair, skin.

Keith marvels at Lance’s eyes, now the shifting blues of a nebula, the neon signs and street lamps reflected in them like stars. Lance’s eyes are somehow every blue that exists, and now Keith realizes why he couldn’t see  _ any _ blue before tonight, before Lance.

That’s how he wants his life, he decides. “Before Lance” and “After Lance.”

“You idiot,” he says fondly, relishing everything about this moment - the chilly night rain, the cosmic nature of Lance’s eyes, the way he smells of vanilla and hand sanitizer from post-lazertag-battle cleanup.

Lance stares at him questioningly, Keith reaches up and trails the pad of his thumb across one of the taller boy’s wet, freckled cheeks. He’d like to kiss everyone of those freckles, one day.

“Of  _ course _ I’ll be your boyfriend.”

Lance’s smile could brighten a solar eclipse.

“But  _ you _ have to take me on a date first,” Keith finishes, grinning back.

“Okay, but I’ve got one request, Mullet,” Lance says teasingly. “To make up for the way you  _ unfairly _ distracted me and  _ creamed _ my team.”

“Oh?” Keith asks, bringing his other hand up to trace the edges of Lance’s sharp jaw.

“You have to take me on a motorcycle ride,” Lance whispers, leaning closer so barely a raindrop can slip between them.

“You’ve got a deal, sharpshooter.”

_ As many as you want. _

Then Lance kisses him, lips tasting of rainwater, body warm despite his drenched clothing.

Keith knows what blue reminds him of, now.

Blue is like breathing.

And blue is like  _ home. _

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my on my (currently inactive) tumblr, @zannatinuviel, and on Instagram (where I draw and post small drabbles) under the same user.


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